A boiler service – spaghetti western-style

The British Gas engineers arrived in convoy, and the dust from their tyres flew into the air as they came down the track.

If this boiler service had a theme tune it would be Ennio Morricone’s ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’.

The engineers parked up and got out of their vans in a cloud of dust. One was tall and lean, a good enough ringer for Clint Eastwood, given the circumstances, while the other was short and stout, making an ideal supporting character.

They strode towards my house grim-faced and I opened the door. ‘Gosh, you’ve come mob-handed,’ I said, and Clint nodded. The little fella looked scared.

‘You know where the boiler is, don’t you?’ I asked. ‘I mean, I assume that’s why they’ve sent two of you?’

Clint looked deadpan, giving nothing away. The little fella looked as though he wanted to turn around and go back. I showed them downstairs into the lower ground floor kitchen, pointing upwards as we descended.

There it was, the great Worcester Bosch, just beneath the ceiling in the place that had made sense when another floor had been there and the kitchen was on it.